


Harry Potter and the Mysterious Snowy Owl Affair

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Caring Harry Potter, Case Fic, Fluffy, Good Draco Malfoy, HP Animagus Fest, HP Animagus Fest 2021, M/M, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Mystery, Oblivious Harry Potter, Owl Messages, Passionate About Animals! Harry, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Small Dueling Scene, Some mentions of animals in distress (not graphic but needs tagging), Spoilers In The Endnote, Tip-offs, Tricky! Harry, Wizengamot Barrister Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29425818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Harry Potter is the newly promoted Head Officer for the Department of Magical Creature Regulation, and he is passionate about his work protecting vulnerable animals who can't advocate for themselves. An added benefit of the job is the close relationship that he had developed with his colleague, Wizengamot prosecution barrister Draco Malfoy. Harry's life is happy and he feels satisfied with his place in the world.Abruptly, Harry's happy existence is thrown into disarray when a small snowy owl starts dropping tip-offs about magical creature crimes to Grimmauld Place.Harry isn't sure what to think. Is his benefactor a friend or foe? Why are they making such stringent efforts to conceal their identity? Draco doesn't seem concerned, but Harry can't help but feel intrigued by the mystery. Who is the wizard behind the owl?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28
Collections: HP Animagus Fest 2021





	Harry Potter and the Mysterious Snowy Owl Affair

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the lovely Newt Scamander for the wonderful book _Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them._ All magical creatures in this fic are canon and more details about them can be found within Mr Scamander's pages. 
> 
> However for the purposes of this story: 
> 
> **Ashwinders.** The Ashwinder is a thin grey serpent with glowing red eyes which comes out of untended magical fires and lives long enough to lay fiery hot eggs in some dark and secluded spot. These eggs, while valued as potion ingredients, are very dangerous. If they are not found and frozen in time, they will set buildings on fire. They are found all over the world.  
>  **Puffskeins.** The Puffskein is a long-tongued custard-coloured little furball that makes a calming purring noise. These pleasant creatures are often kept as pets, particularly by wizarding children.  
>  **Demiguises.** The Demiguise is a peaceful, herbivorous creature that can make itself invisible. It resembles an orangutan with large, black eyes and long, silky hair which can be woven into Invisibility Cloaks.  
>  **Fire Crabs.** The Fire Crab (or fire-crab)is a magical creature which looks like a tortoise with a jeweled shell. The Fire Crab can shoot fire out of its rear end. It is constantly in danger of being killed for its shell, which unscrupulous wizards will use as cauldrons.

> Avery McDonald.

> East Sussex.

> Ashwinder Eggs.

Harry Potter sipped his coffee and furrowed his brow. Sat before him, on the cracked wood of his work desk was a small roll of parchment. Picking it up, he turned it over in his hands. There was nothing on the back and the paper itself was unremarkable. Harry read, and then reread the words on the page. With a quick swish of his wand, Harry cast a _Revelio_ over his mystery. Perhaps there was a secret message written underneath?

The magic spell revealed nothing. No words appeared and Harry made a small grunt of dissatisfaction. This was turning into a very frustrating week. It was very unusual to have such a mystery occur in the scruffy corridors of the DMCR offices, located deep in the bowels of the Ministry. 

The handwriting on the parchment didn’t give anything away to Harry either. It was solid capital letters and they gave no clue to the identity of the writer. There wasn’t a signature at the bottom and there wasn’t an address at the top. The witch or wizard who had sent Harry this message had gone to a great deal of trouble to hide their identity.

It was simply a very boring, very average piece of parchment that had arrived at his Grimmauld Place home, tied to the leg of a small snowy owl last Monday evening.

It had been late in the day when the owl had tapped on his window. Harry had already put on his pyjamas, and was enjoying the final few pages of a Muggle adventure novel when he was rudely disturbed. The wizard had been a little surprised by his visitor. It wasn’t Hermione and Ron’s glossy Great Grey and it wasn’t Neville’s tenacious Eagle owl. 

The Snowy owl had flown delicately around his kitchen and had come to land on his table. Harry had carefully plucked, and unrolled the message the little owl had brought, only to find the enigmatic clue that had so puzzled him ever since. Harry liked to think that he wasn’t quite as oblivious as his mates jested and he had known straight away what the message represented. 

The roll of parchment, tied to the leg of an owl was a tip-off. 

Harry had been recently appointed Head Officer for the Department of Magical Creature Regulation and he usually found his job very satisfying. The DMCR were an offshoot of the Auror Department but their specialty was the investigation of crimes against magical creatures. They were the frontline against smuggling, illegal crup fighting and the harvesting of creatures for illegal potions. Harry loved his job. Magical creatures were precious and he saw it as critical that he preserved their numbers for the generations of wix to come. Every day, the DMCR made a real difference to the most vulnerable creatures in the wizarding world: those who couldn’t speak or advocate for themselves. 

Another benefit of Harry’s job was the close working relationship that he had with Magi-Barrister Draco Malfoy. It still seemed bizarre whenever Harry thought about it, but his one-time enemy was now his most valued colleague. Draco was the top Ministry Prosecutor and his silky, clever words had secured convictions after several of the DMCR’s most complicated cases. The perpetrators were all serving long Azkaban sentences, well deserved after their terrible treatment of the creatures in their care. 

Frustrated, Harry rubbed the corner of the parchment once again. It hadn’t been Transfigured from another text, and it wasn’t charmed to shrink, or for the lettering to face away into invisibility. It was a boring, standard and very average piece of parchment. 

Harry and his DMCR Partner Millie Bulstrode had gotten straight down to work the day after the owl had flown to Grimmauld Place. The two of them had wanted to find out why it was so vital they discovered who this McDonald character was and it hadn’t taken any time at all for their investigations to bear fruit. 

Avery McDonald was a known criminal. Millie had discovered McDonald’s name after a couple of hours of searching in the DMCR records. The witches name was buried deep within the case files. McDonald had first come to the attention of the DMCR during the Alexis Seymour case from two years before. Harry remembered the details as soon as he opened the case file. Seymour had been a vicious dragon smuggler, arrested and imprisoned because of the DMCR's hard work and Draco's superb oratory skills.

Back then, McDonald had only been a periphery character in the criminal conspiracy, but a few days of undercover work proved to Harry that the witch had used the last two years productively. With Alexis Seymour doing three to five in Azkaban, Avery McDonald had stealthily worked her way up to the gang boss. 

McDonald had gotten herself shoulders deep in another devious conspiracy involving magical creatures. The witch had instructed her crew to illegally harvest the eggs of Ashwinders and then freeze them with a special charm. 

Harry had known straightaway what her objective likely was. Ashwinder eggs could be turned into very potent, very illegal Love Potions with even the most rudimentary skills in brewing, and a dawn raid had confirmed Harry’s worst suspicions: an illicit factory had been set up in some Muggle woodlands near McDonald's Sussex base.

McDonald’s evil intention had been to flood the potions market with the drug, leaving witches and wizards very vulnerable. Ashwinder Love Potions would be devastatingly powerful. Happily, Harry’s raid had gone down as swiftly and as cleanly as any charm and Harry was very satisfied with its success. No defensive magic was used and not a single hex discharged. The perpetrators had allowed their wrists to be secured with magical cuffs without a murmur or a fight. The very best part had been the large haul of evidence that Harry’s DMCR team had been able to collect at the scene. There were potion manifests, lists of customers and delivery notes. Millie and he were able to gather them, log them straight inside Records and have copies owl-delivered straight to Draco’s Wizengamot law offices. 

Harry knew he should have been overjoyed. McDonald was a big fish that the DMCR had hooked, and gotten off the streets before anyone had been hurt. Without a doubt, Draco would ensure that she spent several years rotting behind bars at Azkaban. The evidence was strong and told a compelling story. At least the Ashwinders were safe, Harry told himself. That, Harry supposed, was the most important thing. 

Minister for Magic Granger was pleased by the swift and positive outcome, but Harry couldn’t help but feel edgy and wound up by the way the McDonald case had concluded. 

Who was the owner of the small snowy owl? Why hadn’t they spoken to Harry directly? He would have protected them. Why had they sent the message to Grimmauld Place rather than his office? These, and a dozen other doubts swirled around his head. There wasn’t anything that Harry hated more than unanswered questions and loose ends in his life or in his cases.

With an annoyed huff, Harry opened the desk of his drawer and sent the tip-off parchment flying in there with a tiny flick of his wand. 

The truth was, Harry had tried everything that he could think of to identify his mysterious collaborator. The handwriting had been inspected, but it had been disguised and hadn’t matched any on record. The parchment and ink were two most commonly sold brands on Diagon Alley.

Harry had even taken a walk down to the Magical Menagerie and asked the proprietor if he might make a list of anybody who had recently purchased a very small and fluffy snowy owl. The wizard behind the counter had been a wrinkled old grey beard with shrewd dark eyes, and he’d told Harry he couldn’t possibly remember all the owls that passed through his hands.

Several Galleons had exchanged hands and Harry had been forced to bite back his smile when the old timer’s memory flared back to life. Unfortunately, it had been several Galleons down the drain because every name on the wizard’s list had been a total dead end. Harry had Flooed to a dozen houses and inspected just as many snowy owls. Not one was the unique and beautiful little creature that had come to his window. 

In a fit of pure frustration, Harry had even asked Draco for his advice. The two wizards had been sharing a table in the Ministry Canteen the day before, and Harry had pondered the nature of the secretive tip-off while they polished off the final bites of their food.

“What if the sender has some sort of nefarious intent?” Harry had wondered, pushing the crumbly remains of his cheese and tomato sandwich to the edge of his plate “If it was all legal and above board, then they’d surely have come to the DMCR office? Met me in person? Told me how they came by the information?”

Draco hadn’t been impressed with Harry’s fussing. He’d frowned in Harry’s direction as he placed his knife and fork together and pushed his plate away.

“I think you’re worrying far too much about something that doesn't matter a Sickle, Harry,” Draco had answered, pausing to pat his mouth precisely with a napkin before he continued to speak. “We’ve got more than enough evidence to put Avery McDonald away for a long time. Those Love Potions that her crew was brewing were illegally strong. They were scentless, tasteless and a mere sip would have rendered a person insensible to their actions. The crimes that innocent wix would have been victims to doesn’t bear thinking about. You did a good thing getting both the Love Potions and McDonald and her gang off the streets.” Harry watched as his blond friend stood to leave. “I better get going,” Draco continued, sliding his arms through the sleeves of his coat. “I’ve got bloody _hours_ of sworn testimony to commit to the Ministry Pensieve before I Floo home tonight.” Draco drank the last swallow of water out of his glass and turned to look at Harry. “Look, Harry? Don’t look a gift horse – or, in this case, I should say gift owl – in the mouth. Whomever they might have been? I think they did us all a kindness.”

However, the mystery of the little snowy owl had continued to haunt Harry. He didn’t care how long it took him. He was determined to find the answers.

~~

Three week later the snowy owl came tapping on Harry’s window once more. Harry hadn't been expecting company. The wizard had been dozing in front of his Muggle television, his long and difficult week having caught up with him.

The DMCR had discovered, and instantly closed down a Puffskein breeding farm that had been a million miles below regulations. The poor little Puffs had been stuffed nearly a dozen to a cage and several had lost much of their custard-coloured fur due to the stress of the experience. Harry hadn’t made any arrests but his day had been long and difficult. Luckily, Luna had been her normal brilliant self, and had taken the majority of the furry critters back with her to the Magic Creature Sanctuary that she ran with Rolf. 

The last few Puffs had been grudgingly collected by the Magical Menagerie owner. The wizened old wizard had grumbled and fussed about taking them, but Harry hadn’t felt an ounce of guilt as he'd levitated the last of the little creatures into a cardboard box. He knew full well that the Menagerie proprietor would make a dozen or so Galleons from the Puffskein sales when Hogwarts broke up for the Easter vacation in a couple of weeks’ time. Puffs were still the most popular pet in wizarding England.

It took the owl several loud taps to wake Harry properly from his snooze. It quickly became obvious that the bird was both obstinate, and very noisy. Smothering his yawn with a palm, Harry made his way to the window and opened it, shivering at the cold winter air that rushed into his room at the same time as the little snowy owl. 

Harry felt his heart sink as he watched the owl swirl elegantly around the room. There was a roll of parchment tied to his leg that he could see looked identical to the previous tip-off. The bird landed on the back of one of his kitchen chairs, and Harry distractedly fed the snowy a treat as he carefully detached the message.

> Valentine Yaxley. 

> North Cornwall.

> Demiguise Hair. 

Harry couldn’t believe it. His mysterious collaborator had struck again!

A flash of inspiration hit Harry as he read and re-read the note. He bit back a grin. If he could cast a tracking spell on the snowy owl right now then he could easily track him back to his owner. It was a fool proof plan and Harry reached for his wand.

“ _Avensegium_ ,” Harry incanted, pointing his wand straight at the bird. He was happy that it wouldn't hurt him in the slightest 

Nothing happened though, and all that emerged from the pointed end of Harry’s wand were a couple of very weak orange sparks. “Merlin’s eyes,” Harry cursed to himself, struggling to understand why his magic had failed him so completely. There wasn’t anything amiss with his wand, so it had to be the snowy owl. The truth dawned. The creature had been pre-magicked so that it couldn’t be charmed. His cunning owner has thought of everything! Harry could only stare as the bird took flight and flew from his kitchen every bit as quickly as he had arrived.

Who could the owl possibly belong to? Who was the wix that was so terrified of meeting him that he had to resort to such cloak and dagger tactics? 

With a sigh, Harry sat down dispiritedly at his kitchen table. There was nothing left of the little snowy owl except the parchment tip-off, and a single feather that had become dislodged from the widest part of his wing. 

Picking up the feather from the wood, Harry ran it slowly between his fingers. It was as soft and every bit as bright as sunlight on a summer morning.

“Circe,” Harry muttered, rolling his eyes and feeling more than a little embarrassed with himself. Where had that odd and fanciful thought come from? He wasn’t normally a wizard to think so poetically about something as mundane as a feather. Harry picked it up once again and gently tickled his forearm with the tip.

There was something so familiar about the white-blond colour of it, but for the life of him, Harry couldn’t place his finger on what that might be.

~~

Harry’s mystery benefactor had been right on the wand about Valentine Yaxley. 

Millie, Harry and the rest of the Department of Magical Creature Regulation had paid Yaxley a call the very next day and he had turned out to be a very vile person indeed. The man was a dyed-in-the-wool pure-blood fundamentalist who had left the wizarding world in a rage and fury after the fall of Voldemort. Ever since, Yaxley had been scratching out a living making dubiously-legal enchanted objects in his isolated Cornwall home, always coasting on the edges of Auror investigations but never quite warranting a full raid. 

Yaxley’s opinions about Harry Potter had been very low indeed, and the nasty character had launched a torrent of Jelly Leg Curses in his direction the very moment that they’d made eye contact, screaming that Harry was the “wizarding world’s greatest traitor.”

Fortunately for Harry, the grizzled diehard was long years out of practice and the spells flew miles wide of their mark. It took a simple swirl of his wand for Harry to throw up a Shield Charm and a simple Expelliarmus to disarm him. Yaxley’s wand flew from his hand and Harry caught it expertly. He was proud of the fact he still held the Ministry record for casting that spell.

Hidden deep in the woods, Yaxley’s home had been a broken down, filthy place that was filled with half-filled cauldrons and phials of smoky, opaque potions. One of Harry’s aides’ side-Alonged Yaxley back to the Ministry whilst Millie and he explored the property. 

Harry had held his breath as he gingerly stepped forward. There were conch shells on a grimy shelf, enchanted to sing a siren song that would make a person lose their mind. Harry saw broomsticks, likely magicked to throw off their riders and even paintings covered with sheets of dusty cloth. He knew better than to examine them, though. They might hold malevolent spirits in their shiny surfaces or curse him forever on the spot.

Millie had been the one to find the Demiguise, and the witch had shouted for Harry’s attention promptly. A _Revelio_ on a seemingly empty cage had shown her the emaciated creature. Harry had lunged into the room and he had been shocked at the sight: the creature’s silvery hair had been patchy and his soulful eyes were dull and clouded. 

It had been immediately obvious to Harry what Yaxley’s greedy plans for the magical ape had been. The pure-blood had been harvesting the poor animal’s hair to make an Invisibility Cloak, an act that was entirely illegal in Britain. Demiguises were a protected, and precious species whose numbers had plummeted throughout the centuries because of the magical world’s addiction to their fur. It was only in recent years that their numbers had begun to slowly rise. Every Demiguise was valuable and keeping them as pets was illegal. 

When Harry had picked up the Demiguise it had shuddered and shaken at being touched, and he hid his head in the crook of Harry’s arm. The ape was blatantly terrified and Harry could only imagine the rough treatment he had received at Yaxley’s hands. A primal part of Harry was always filled with rage whenever he discovered the abuse of innocent creatures. 

Millie had sent her Patronus to Luna as a matter of urgency and the sanctuary owner had Apparated herself to Yaxley’s home before even half an hour had passed.

“Will he be alright?” Harry had asked, anger making his tone tight and scratchy. “This poor animal is naught but skin and bone! Is he going to die?”

Luna had given Harry a serene smile, one that she knew calmed his nerves. Then the witch had gently taken the Demiguise out of his arms. 

“I’ve got a potion that’ll set him straight,” Luna had answered, her voice melodic and tender. “And I promise, Harry, that a few weeks of my love and care will do wonders.” Harry had watched as she had leant forward and brushed a kiss across the Demiguise's matted fur. “When will wizards learn that beautiful creatures such as this weren’t put on the earth simply for our benefit?”

Harry hadn’t replied. All he could think about was his mystery benefactor, the owner of the little snowy owl. Nothing about the case made sense. How had his insider known about Yaxley and McDonald too? The two criminals didn’t have anything in common. They were different ages, lived in different areas and ran in different circles. They had been in the process of committing very different crimes. One was the young leader of a criminal gang. The other had been a grizzled pure-blood isolationist. 

On parchment, they only had two things in common: both had abused magical creatures and both had been caught by a shadowy tip-off, tied to the leg of an owl.

~~

Harry Flooed over to Malfoy Manor the very next day. Draco was the only wizard that would tolerate his obsessive ruminations with both good grace and a smile, and offer him tea as well.

As he stepped through the Draco’s lounge fireplace, Harry was pleased to see a mug of his favourite Earl Grey was waiting under a stasis spell. There were several chocolate Hob Nobs too, Harry’s most favoured Muggle biscuits. 

Draco was lounged on the settee, wearing a soft teal jumper above navy Muggle jeans. His reading glasses were perched low on his nose. Harry watched as Draco placed the Wizengamot brief that he’d been leafing through on the floor, and turned his head, giving Harry a bright and very genuine expression of welcome as he entered the room.

Not needing to be told, Harry sat down on the squashy, overstuffed settee just across from Draco. With a flick of his ward, the blond-haired barrister Levitated the mug gently across to Harry. 

Harry drank greedily, feeling the heat and sweetness of the tea percolate through his body. Draco knew exactly how Harry liked his tea, with just the tiniest splash of milk, and he made it perfectly every time. A second spell had the plate of biscuits landing in Harry’s hand and he dunked one, the sensation of the melted chocolate a pleasurable but momentary distraction.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Draco said, picking up his own drink and taking a refined sip. Even on a Saturday morning Draco was all aristocratic grace and casual elegance. He leant forward, the long fingers of one hand splaying over his knee and gave Harry the full beam of his attention. “Valentine Yaxley? My Head Clerk owled me with all the gossip only last night. She knew that I’d want the lowdown. It’s not often members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight end up in the Wizengamot cells.” Draco placed his china tea cup back in its saucer with the tiniest clink. He paused for a couple of beats before he carried on with his speech. “It’s a good collar, Harry. Yaxley used to be a close associate of my Father, back when their surnames meant something and the pair of them dined with the Minister of Magic. Even when I was little, I knew the man was a total cretin. No honour or respect. Always trying to sell some enchanted object with a dubious history. Lucius fell for it as well, more often than not.”

Harry swallowed the remainder of his Hob Nob with a mouthful of tea. 

“His home was full of illegal materials,” Harry answered, recalling the bustling, over-filled shelves. He gave Draco a decisive nod. “I saw lots of enchanted objects that could maim a wix or do something even worse. We weren't there for the illegal materials though. That wasn’t why the DMCR were there. We’re not Aurors. We don’t have jurisdiction.” Harry signed. “Draco, Yaxley was another tip-off. Another name, location and creature delivered on parchment to my home. That’s the reason we were there, Draco. The mistreatment and starvation of a Demiguise. Yesterday’s raid was another gift from my benefactor. Another criminal caught by the owner of the snowy owl. What should I do? I’ve got to find out their identity! It’s driving me mad.”

Harry reached into his pocket, and placed the roll of parchment on the table between Draco and he. Leaning over, Draco picked it up with lithe fingers. 

Harry watched him as he examined it for a moment or so, turning it over and reading the neatly written capital letters. It held no clues whatsoever. The parchment, ink and writing were all identical to the first tip-off. After a moment Draco placed the paper back on the table. He slid it over to Harry with a forefinger.

“I haven’t changed my opinion,” Draco said, meeting Harry’s eyes and opening his palms in a bold gesture of defeat. “Yaxley was a vile, bigoted old pure-blood, intent on stealing the fur of a protected species for his own nefarious purposes! McDonald was creating illegally strong potions that would have put innocent wixen in harm's way! I simply don’t see the problem, Harry. You’re the Head Officer for the Department of Magical Creature Regulation. These arrests you've made have saved magical creatures from certain death. Isn’t that what you want? The only reason that you Floo to work every day?”

Harry shrugged in lieu of speaking. Draco was terribly practical and as usual had cut to the heart of the matter. This was the same skill that Draco used to such devastatingly good effect in the Wizengamot, and Harry fidgeted, feeling a little like he was sitting in the dock himself. 

“I thought you wanted to catch these villains?” Draco continued, his grey eyes burning a hole into Harry’s soul. “Bring them to justice? That's why you moved from the Auror Office, wasn’t it? So that you could make real change? Make a real impact, rather than just treading water?”

“You’re right, of course,” Harry answered, fiddling with a loose button on the collar of his shirt, “but it isn’t as simple as you’re claiming! I want to affect change, and save innocent creatures, but not if there’s somebody out there feeding me the information. What if they’re manipulating me, Draco? Telling me these names to keep me hard at work while they commit the perfect bloody crime!”

Draco’s gasped audibly at Harry’s answer. “Merlin, Harry,” he said, with a small shake of his head. “It isn’t wartime now! There isn’t a Dark Wizard out there, planning to overthrow England with the help of a few magical creatures. This is your Saviour complex talking, not you! You’ll drive yourself completely bonkers if you can’t let this go. Isn’t it more likely your friend has a history with the Ministry? A criminal record or perhaps is on probation?”

“I wouldn’t care about any of those things,” Harry answered fiercely. “I’d know that their heart was in the right place. I’d tell them that they’d been brave.” 

Draco’s gaze was penetrating as it studied Harry’s face. Harry felt like the other wizard was trying to see beyond the words that he had just spoken. Enigmatic emotions drifted over the blonde’s face and, for half a moment, Harry wondered whether Draco was about to speak. He didn’t though. 

“I just want to know the truth,” Harry finished, the puzzlement in his voice evident. “I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being used, but at the same time, I couldn’t not act on the snowy owl’s tip-offs, could I? Otherwise Yaxley and McDonald would still be on the streets.”

Draco seemed to take that on board. “Your friend might be somebody that admires you very much,” he replied, taking a final sip of his tea. “A well-wisher. Perhaps they’ve not spoken to you directly only because they’re unsure of your reaction. Perhaps they worry that their history might make them suspicious.” Draco gave Harry a gentle smile. “Harry, if you want to chase this wix down, then you should. Do what you think is best. Your intuition was always good, even when it infuriated me back in school. Whatever you choose to do will be the right course of action.”

Harry stood. He was due at lunch with Ron and Hermione, and was already late. Somehow these mornings sharing tea, biscuits and DMCR discussions with Draco always seemed to take longer than he had allocated time for. There was just something special about the other wizard’s company, and the warm environs of the Manor that Harry enjoyed immensely. Draco had worked very hard to rid his home of every element of Lucius’s austere decoration and the place was welcoming and cheery. It was homely in a way that Grimmauld Place had never been. “Was that actually a compliment?” Harry asked, across to where Draco had stood to say farewell. “I’ll alert the Prophet! Wonders will never cease.”

Draco rolled his eyes but there wasn’t any heat in it. “You needn’t get a big head,” Draco said, a smirk crossing his features. “Now get your skinny arse back inside that fireplace. The Weasel won’t forgive me if I keep you much longer.”

~~

Draco was right, just like he always was.

Harry knew that he’d be driven entirely bonkers if he didn’t solve the mystery of his secretive benefactor and the little snowy owl who did his bidding. 

So far, the tip-offs had all arrived at the weekend and Harry thought it likely that he might get another tip-off very soon. The Prophet had waxed lyrical about his success on their front page and Harry dearly hoped that might inspire them to return their owl to Grimmauld Place with another tip-off. 

Once the snowy owl was in his kitchen, Harry planned to slip an enchanted ring over his claw and then track the magical object back to his owner. It wasn’t the most strictly ethical of plans, but it’d get him over the thorny issue of the anti-tracking magic that seemed to have been magicked onto the creature itself. 

It only took only a day before Harry’s patience was rewarded. The snowy owl came tapping at the pane of glass on Sunday night, every bit as loud and as persistent as he’d been before.

Harry stood, opened the window and let the owl fly into the room. 

Merlin, but he really was a glorious bird. He swooped and dived majestically before coming to land on Harry’s outstretched hand. It wasn’t any surprise to see a roll of parchment tied to the snowy’s leg and Harry removed it cautiously, not wanting to cause the owl any undue distress. The message was another tip-off, and like before, offered not a clue to the writer’s identity.

> Johnathan McLean.

> Derbyshire.

> Fire Crab Shells. 

“Who do you belong to?” Harry mused, giving the owl a handful of the treats that he’d brought especially for the snowy owl.

He ate delicately – almost with refinement – and Harry let out a slow sigh. The owl looked up at him, his bright grey eyes intelligent. “And why are you so familiar, little bird? I almost feel like I know you.”

It was time for the DMCR Officer to put his plan into action. Harry took out his wand from his pocket and gave the magic ring that he’d brought with a small tiny tap. It glowed brightly, showing the tracing charm that Harry had permeated the metal with. Everything was exactly as Harry wanted it and he approached the snowy owl slowly, because the last thing Harry wanted was to frighten him.

The next few minutes were pandemonium.

The snowy owl didn’t take kindly to the idea of having a ring attached to his leg. As soon as Harry tried to lay a finger on him, he screeched and lunged, taking a bite from Harry’s finger as he flapped his wings angrily. He launched himself into the air, feathers flying everywhere. Harry was shocked and he tripped backwards, not really understanding why the creature had responded so violently. An owl as well trained as this one seemed to be ought to be very used to being handled.

“Bloody hell!” Harry shouted, reaching for his wand as the owl panicked and fretted around him. All Harry wanted was to throw up a shield charm to prevent the poor creature from flying into his head, an action that would have been agonising both him and the owl too. The snowy beat him to the wand though, and Harry not witnessed the scene with his very own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it. 

Harry watched, amazed as the owl picked up the wand in his beak.

The room was immediately filled with glittery green magic, and the wizard felt enchanted bindings wrap around his arms and legs. An _Incarcerous_? For a moment Harry’s brain felt confused and fuzzy. He’d had a spell cast upon him? Fear shot through his body. Was the wizard invisible, concealed from sight? Was he wearing an Invisibility Cloak? Harry looked around, panic making his lungs tight and his breath short. Harry watched the owl once more, and felt the truth click all of a sudden into place.

The snowy owl wasn’t really an owl at all.

They were an Animagus, and Harry nearly laughed as he saw his kitchen window disappear in a flurry of purple sparkles. The Animagus had performed an Evansco using wandless magic. The owl leapt through the open space into the darkness of the night outside.

As he vanished, Harry felt the bonds around his arms and legs melt away immediately, leaving nothing but a faint sparkle of magic.

~~

The next day Harry Potter was a man on a mission. 

He decided to forgo coffee in the Ministry Canteen with Draco, and make his way downstairs to the Animagus Registry Office as soon as he had Flooed into work.

The elderly witch behind the mahogany desk was keen to help the Chosen One and Harry soon had the huge volume open on the table in front of him. Harry ran his finger down the neatly quilled list and felt his heart sink down into his boots. There was a tawny owl, a barn owl and all manner of starlings, magpies and robins but there wasn’t a snowy owl. Harry checked once more and dread settled in his belly. The wizard he was dealing with was an unregistered Animagus.

Draco had been entirely wrong. He wasn’t dealing with an admirer, or somebody that was leery of the Ministry. His secretive benefactor was, by nature of their concealed identity a de facto criminal. Concealing your Animagus self from the Ministry was an arrestable offence. 

Harry closed the book and stared down at the cover; his eyes unseeing as his mind whirled with dreadful possibilities. His only thought was that he’d been played for a total fool. Chasing down McDonald and Yaxley had been nothing but a diversion, and he didn’t doubt that Jonathan McLean would just be the latest waste of his time. Was the Animagus planning some horrible crime, something that the DMCR had missed completely? There was really nothing else that Harry could do. He hadn’t a choice. 

He was going to have to capture the snowy owl, and reveal the wizard beneath his feathers, all by himself.

~~

It took Harry two exasperated weeks, but finally the snowy owl returned to Grimmauld Place.

The wizard had reasoned that a lack of progress in the case of Johnathan McLean would bring the Animagus out of the woodwork. No arrests had been announced in _The Prophet_ and McLean was still at large. The real truth was that the DMCR Officer had everything under textbook control. McLean was an unscrupulous, unprincipled wizard who was breeding Fire Crabs to steal their valuable, and nearly indestructible shells once they were fully grown. McLean planned to use the shells for an almost imperishable cauldron coating. 

Millie was working the McLean case undercover, and she had assured Harry the crab’s lives weren’t at risk yet. It would be several weeks before they were fully grown and only then would their shells become truly flame-resistant. They were worthless to McLean before that date, which meant their lives would be safe. 

That gave Harry a very short interlude in which to catch his Animagus nemesis. 

In the end, the plan had been relatively simple. Harry had warded Grimmauld Place with a series of strong spells that would allow the Animagus to enter, but would forbid him from being able to leave. 

Anti-Transfiguration magic would stop the wizard from returning to his regular self or using his magic. Harry planned to capture the snowy owl and take him back to the Ministry. Then, Harry had planned to send a Patronus to Draco – the only person he could truly trust – and have him come over to the interview suite. Together, Draco and he would interrogate the Animagus and find whatever his big secret was. 

The snowy owl arrived late at night. A Tempus showed that it was close to midnight and Harry carefully opened his kitchen window, confident that the Grimmauld Place wards wouldn’t let the snowy owl leave.

As he’d expected, the owl was wary. He hopped across the table, and ignored the treats that had been left out to tempt him. Harry's wand firmly clasped in his hand and he edged forward with an owl crate that he’d borrowed from the old wizard at the Magical Menagerie. 

The Animagus soon realised that he’d been caught. He flapped and screeched, flapping his wings in useless fury as he circled the room, his wings spread wide. Harry felt like the worst wizard alive as he ambushed the Animagus with a magicked net and quickly placed him in the cage.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry said, snapping the clasp shut and locking it with a Colloportus. The snowy owl thrashed and fought; his grey eyes full of anguish. Harry could have sworn that it even gave him a haughty, angry glare. “You’ve not given me a choice though," he continued "McDonald. Yaxley… Even this Johnathan McLean? How do you know about them? And you’re unregistered! People say I’m oblivious, but I’m not an entire fool! Something untoward is happening, and I’m going to find out what it is.”

It took less than fifteen minutes for Harry to pull on a coat, pick up owl food and a flask of water and dive through the Floo network into the Ministry Atrium.

Harry knew that the building would be close to deserted at this late hour of the night, and his boots seemed unnaturally loud and echoed as they bounded across the marble floor. The wizard was glad that he’d been forward thinking enough to cast a Silencing Charm on the owl crate, for the Animagus was furious and kept thrashing about within the bars of the cage. Before long, Harry had located an empty interview room. He shut the door behind him with a decisive click.

“Nobody can hurt you here,” he told the Animagus. “You’re fully protected within the walls of the Ministry. It doesn’t matter if you've upset somebody or if you're in a criminal gang. I can help you.” Harry cast his eyes up towards the clock. “It’s almost one o’clock. Let me assure you, by the time the morning comes, I’ll know your identity.” Harry watched the Animagus turn his feathery head away in annoyance. “I’m going outside right now,” Harry continued, “and I’m going to call my colleague in.”

Pleased that every element of his plan seemed to be falling into place, Harry nipped outside of the door. Having Draco beside him felt vital, somehow. The other wizard had known about Harry’s suspicions since the Animagus had delivered the first tip-off, so many weeks before, and there wasn’t anyone better in a crisis. 

Draco was calm, collected and rational. He’d know the right questions to ask, even if the Animagus was obstinate or tried to escape once again. Harry took out his wand and voiced _Expecto Patronum_ , making his silvery stag appear. He appraised it of the situation and sent it on its way to Draco. 

But, to Harry’s profound disappointment, Draco’s stallion Patronus didn’t appear in reply. He waited two, three minutes for the charmed creature to appear, but the cold Ministry corridor remained stubbornly empty. 

A dreadful thought filled Harry’s head, sudden and very uncomfortable. Was his friend otherwise engaged? Heat flooded Harry’s cheeks. It was, after all, the middle of the night. He hadn’t heard any gossip about Draco having a new beau, but Harry supposed it was entirely possible. The idea of it was more disconcerting that Harry would have liked. Frowning, Harry waited a further minute before sending a last Patronus message. Where was Draco? Why was he ignoring him? A wall of silence wasn’t like his friend at all.

Feigning a confidence that he wasn’t sure he still felt, Harry strode back into the interview room.

“My colleague won’t be long at all,” he announced to the Animagus, who was now sitting in the corner of his crate and looked very sorry for himself. “Draco is the finest Wizengamot barrister that I’ve ever seen,” he carried on, addressing the snowy owl, “so don’t imagine that you’ll be able to weasel your way out of telling the truth. He’ll pull your story to shreds.”

It was simply a matter of time, Harry decided, _Accio_ ’ing a week-old copy of _The Prophet_ that somebody had left on the floor of the room. 

Draco would respond to his message eventually, Harry sulkily decided. He simply had to extract himself from the arms of his new boyfriend first. Even if Draco didn’t arrive, the Animagus was bound to get bored or hungry soon. He surely wouldn’t fancy a diet of owl pellets and water for hours upon hours? Sliding into the hard, fixed seat Harry opened the newspaper, prepared to be every bit as stubborn as the Animagus seemed willing to be.

At first, Harry’s adrenaline – and his growing annoyance and jealousy over Draco – were enough to keep him awake, but before long the words began to swim on the printed page. Harry kept yawning, and taking sips of his flask of water, but it wasn’t easy to push through. The clock ticked its way to two o’clock and Harry stood, shaking the tiredness out of his limbs.

With a twist of his wand, Harry summoned his Patronus once again.

“Where are you Draco?” Harry hissed, not caring that the Animagus was watching him, as unashamedly curious as it was possible for a small snowy owl to be. “I’ve got our secretive benefactor in custody, right here at the Ministry! I could really do with your help! Get rid of whomever he might be, and get down here. I need you!”

Harry’s stag Patronus disappeared and Harry turned to the Animagus. “Don’t think he won’t arrive,” Harry said, meeting the stare of the owl’s grey eyes. “Everyone judges him… Imagines he’s the same boy he was back at Hogwarts. It’s just not true. He’s changed. Draco is one of the finest men that I’ve ever known and he’ll be here.”

Draco didn’t arrive though. The hour hand slowly rotated, and two o’clock became three without hide nor hair of the blond wizard appearing. Within his cage, the Animagus was steadfastly ignoring his treats and water and Harry began to feel concerned about his welfare.

“I can’t interview you on my own,” Harry mused, looking at the ruffled and tired owl. “That would be against every regulation in the book. Millie is undercover, working the Fire Crabs case... Now, I could ask my friend Hemione Granger-Weasley? You might have heard of her? A bit of a star in the Minister’s Office? She wouldn’t be too happy about being summoned at the middle of the night.” Harry smiled and looked thoughtfully at the Animagus. “How about we do this the polite, civilized way? I’m going to open the door of this cage, and then I’ll Finite the Anti-Transfiguration magic that I’ve placed on you. I’ll go outside, and you’ll change back into the wizard you see in the mirror each morning. Don’t get any funny ideas,” Harry warned, breaking the Colloportus with a swift tap of his wand. “I learnt my lesson back at Grimmauld Place. I’ve got my wand, and I’m bloody keeping tight hold of it. Don’t make me use it!”

The Animagus hopped out of the cage and Harry pointed his wand down at the table. A Finite, and a flurry of green sparkles broke the Anti-Transfiguration spell and Harry left the room to give the Animagus some privacy. Shifting between states was a very intimate, very private moment and whatever the wizard might be guilty of, Harry had no wish to intrude on that.

Harry gave the wizard five minutes grace, and then he stepped back into the room.

For half a second, Harry couldn’t believe the truth that his eyes were telling him. 

Sat at the interview room table, looking ruffled and very ill at ease was Draco Malfoy. His blond hair was fluffy, and stuck out at all angles, and he looked rather like the little snowy owl that he’d been, only moments before. 

Harry felt his jaw drop. He had a million questions but found that he couldn’t quite get his voice to work properly.

“Salazar,” Draco said, meeting Harry’s eyes. Harry felt a shock of recognition as he looked into friend’s face, for Draco’s eyes were the exact silvery grey as they’d been as an Animagus. “Do close your mouth. You’ll catch flies if you’re not careful. Your little owl-napping plan was much more devious than I’d have expected from such a moral Gryffindor as you. I certainly wasn’t expecting the cage.”

Harry snapped his jaw shut. Even when caught as an unregistered Animagus, Draco still seemed to have the upper hand. He didn’t seem daunted by the predicament of being sat in a Ministry interview room without his wand. Harry took an uncertain step forward and cleared his throat. 

“And I wasn’t expecting you to be an unregistered Animagus,” Harry said, his brain fizzing with the penalties that such a crime would mean for Draco. “You’ve worked so hard to get to the top of your profession,” Harry continued his voice loud in the tiny space. “A Wizengamot barrister! There can’t be the merest hint of corruption or fraud associated with your name. Bloody hell, Draco!” Harry shook his head, confused and furious that his friend had kept such a huge secret from him. “You’ve pulled your family name up out of the mire, but this could plunge it right back in. If the DMLE got wind of this you could end up in Azkaban! All the cases that you’ve prosecuted could even be thrown out!”

Draco stood and stretched his long, lean body. He was wearing crumpled Muggle jeans and a white cotton shirt. Harry stared at him for a moment, wondering how Draco could be so nonchalant about something so taboo. “The Ministry knows already,” Draco answered. “And I was given the all clear to go unregistered by no other than your friend Granger. I underestimated her at school, Harry. She really is the brightest witch of her age.”

Harry was dumbfounded, and he leant against the rough wood of the table. “Hermione?” he asked, his head feeling a little like he’d been Stupefied.

“Hermione,” Draco answered. “Your best-friend has been a good ally to me, Harry. I learnt the technique to become an Animagus from my Godfather Snape, only a few months before he died. He wanted me to have a way of escaping from Voldemort if the situation got bleak.” Draco paused, and Harry thought his friend looked meditative. Harry wasn’t sure that Draco would continue speaking, but then he suddenly did. “With the chaos of post-war, and my criminal trial, registering myself seemed foolish. I couldn’t bear to give the world more ammunition against me.”

“But how did ‘Mione come to be involved?” Harry asked.

“My registration for membership of the Wizengamot Inns of Law happened to end up on her desk,” Draco answered, running a finger gently over the metal bars of the owl crate that was still sat on the table, “and pinned to it was my Animagus registration. Granger knew my Animagus state would preclude any success as a barrister. I’d forever be seen as shifty. Devious. Even criminal. She Firecalled me, asked me to come into her office and the two of us had a forthright conversation. The witch was good enough to me the benefit of the doubt-”

“Allowed you to go unregistered?” Harry cut in, amazed at Hermione’s blatant disregard of the rules. 

Draco nodded. “My registration documents were allowed to lie on file,” he replied.

“But the criminals,” Harry insisted, wanting to understand the whole picture. “How did you come to know about crimes in progress? Things that even the DMLE office had no idea about?”

“I heard things in my work. Hints in witness statements, or whispers I heard visiting the Wizengamot cells. I caught information about criminals like McDonald, Yaxley and McLean.” Draco sighed and huffed out a slow breath. “Being an Animagus gives you a different perspective on life, Harry. Gives you an idea of what life is like for these wonderful, splendid magical creatures and I knew that I couldn’t live with myself, not if I let these crimes take place without trying to do something to stop them.”

Harry bit his lip, a sudden flash of disappointment coiling in his middle. “So that was all I ever was, then? Your lacky? You fed me the tips, safe in the knowledge that I’d chase them all down? Ever the Saviour it seems! I was being played all along, wasn’t I?"

“Not at all,” Draco answered, stepping toward Harry. “I knew you were the only person who’d care as much as I did! I couldn’t have trusted anyone else with the information, Harry. When we were at the Manor, I suggested that your well-wisher might have been a person who admires you very much and I stand by those words. You’re brilliant at your job.”

Draco and he had been standing only a couple of feet apart in the tiny room, but at Draco’s compliment, Harry found himself stepping closer. 

He wasn’t sure how to answer Draco. His words sounded trite and ridiculous. The wizard felt the tingle of Draco’s powerful magic roll across his skin and suddenly Harry realised what a tiny space this interview room really was. Without warning, there felt like a new tension between the pair of them had sprung up, and Harry could see tenacious resolve cross Draco’s expression. He risked his career, his reputation and everything that he’d worked so hard to build, just to protect vulnerable, special creatures.

Draco had trusted Harry to do the right thing. Harry felt his belly flip with nervous anticipation. He’d always felt incredibly fascinated by Draco, but he hadn’t ever believed his intense attraction could be reciprocated. Harry hadn’t ever dreamt of doing anything about his crush, but as their eyes met, he saw his own fledgling desire reflected in his friend’s grey gaze. 

Harry stood his ground as Draco closed the space between them.

Harry’s heart swooped as Draco raised his hand and lay it to rest on Harry’s jaw. A shiver of doubt seemed to cross the blond wizard’s face, a wrinkle of uncertainty creasing the lines at the side of his eyes. 

“And our history frightened me,” Draco said, his voice quiet. “I thought it might make you suspicious of my intentions.”

Harry could barely believe his friend’s words. He hadn’t ever before seen the look of raw determination that Draco wore right then. He turned his face into Draco’s palm, his rough calloused thumb gentle as they stroked across his lips. He inhaled a trembling breath, his nerves frayed as he waited to see what Draco would do next. Draco’s palm was warm and it caressed his cheek.

“I’d like to kiss you,” Draco whispered, glancing down at Harry’s lips. He was very close; Harry could feel the heat of his words on his skin as he spoke. Merlin, but he wanted Draco.

Harry wanted him so very much. He nodded his approval and shut his eyes as the two of them began to kiss. There was the oddest, almost featherlike sensation of being tickled as Draco’s lips met his own, and their kiss was tender and delicate.

It wasn’t like any first kiss that Harry had ever experienced. Harry felt at peace kissing with Draco; it was almost, he thought wonderingly, as if it were instinctual. Draco broke their kiss after a long moment. His cheeks were flushed red and his eyes were blown with raw attraction. 

“You were never played,” Draco insisted, his voice thick with desire. “You were the only person I could trust Harry. The only person I knew would care for those creatures as much as I did.”

Harry couldn’t help it. He pulled Draco into another kiss, hoping that the other wizard would feel the depths of his affection. He truly did care for all the animals of the world, but it had taken a small snowy owl to finally steal his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Draco is an unregistered snowy owl Animagus.
> 
> Thank you for reading xxx
> 
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